


Star Light Star Bright

by ToukoTai



Series: First Name: Agent [11]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Red vs. Blue, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Invasion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: A field, an old friend, a possible concussion and an alien invasion.Must be Tuesday, Clint thinks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to do something short and fun.

Clint wakes up in a field.

And groans.

The sky is on fire.

He has a very good view of this because he’s flat on his back in the field. Watching the latest group of alien invaders light up the night sky with lasers and space ships. His com is giving him static, might have been damaged in the spectacular fall he took off the side of one of the smaller ships. No help from his team there. 

And, true to form, there’s a very big, very mean, very bad business looking alien advancing on him. Clint can barely feel his fingertips, and he’s still gasping from having the air knocked out of him, but he manages to get to his knees all the same. It would be a crying shame if he couldn’t,  _ at the very least _ , manage a ‘welcome to Earth’ style line.

On quick inventory, he might just have to go out crying and from the way the alien is slowly, smugly advancing, it knows it too.

Clint’s bow is gone, most of his arrows are broken from the fall, he still has his combat knife, not that it had done much damage against the alien’s armor the first time around. He pulls it out, just to have the reassuring heft in his palm. He might be able to get an eye or an armor joint if he tries hard and really believes in himself.

So this looks bad.

Except that there’s a rapport of fire from behind him, Clint instinctively throws himself to the side and down. Ignoring the sharp flare of pain that is his shoulder impacting the dirt. The alien roars in anger and pain. It looked like whatever ammo was being used, its armor doesn’t fully protect against.

And whatever kind of armor it had, was useless against the direct headshot that was the follow up. The alien drops, missing half its head.

“Hey.” With a bit of effort, Clint turns his head and oh, hi there. Agent Washington stands within arms’ reach, fully suited up, battle rifle casually held in the ready position. Something in Clint’s chest relaxes at the sight. “You getting up anytime soon? I hear there’s an alien invasion going on.”

“No kidding?” Clint gasped out, scrambling back to his feet rather unsteadily. He watched as Washington casually ambled over to the dead alien, switched out the rifle for a service pistol and took aim. Clint winced at the gunshot, Freelancers  _ always _ double tap. “Is that what’s going on? I just thought the game ended early.” Wash’s helmet tips to the side, studying Clint from his position over the certainly completely dead no chance of getting up and attacking them alien.

“It might have for you.” He says, dryly and, to Clint’s horror starts listing out  _ every injury _ he has. “Possible fractured left wrist, two broken fingers on the same hand, eye swelling shut, your left shoulder is dislocated by the way. Landed on the left side huh?”

“How do you…” Clint trailed off, eyes narrowing(and yes, the right one was swelling shut so this was a  _ feat _ .) at the orange visor. “The  _ helmet _ .” He hissed, pointing a non broken finger at Washington. Wash’s shoulders shook like he was laughing but his voice didn’t even have a tremor in it.

“Not exactly. I saw you fall, very graceful.” Clint stuck his tongue out because he could and it seemed like his mouth was the only part of him that didn’t hurt. Washington didn’t react other then to ignore him as he tapped the side of his helmet. “And the visor has night vision.” He added.

Because  _ of course _ it did.

“What are you gonna do ‘bout it?” Clint challenged and then promptly had to sit down on the grassy field due to lightheadedness and not wanting to pass out. So that kind of ruined the hardcore ready to fight image he was trying to project. But seeing as how Washington hadn’t appeared the least bit threatened by him(more amused then anything.) he probably wasn’t selling that image as well as he wanted to.

“I’ve already radioed our doctor. She’s on her way over.” Washington watched him, he hadn’t made a move to help Clint down, it was reassuring to know he was the same asshole he’d always been, just in a different flavor.

“A doctor?” Clint raised his eyebrows, comfortable in the knowledge that Washington could see it. “Didn’t you say you have a medic or something?” There’s a snort of laughter from Wash, crackling the voice mic in his helmet. (And what Clint wouldn’t give to have  _ five minutes _ with one of those helmets. Probably put Tony’s to shame.)

“Our medic would just keep you company while you died.” Wash’s voice is flat. That wasn’t a great visual. “Our  _ doctor _ will actually make sure you live and maybe, just maybe, shoot your damn bow again.” That was a much better visual.

“Oh, good.” Clint said, looking up at Wash. The grey of his armor blurring into the dark of the night. If it weren’t for the bright yellow highlights, Clint would have a hard time focusing on him. “You know, since I probably have a concussion, I can say whatever I want.”

“Sure you can.” Washington replied conversationally, his rifle back out and held ready to use at a moment’s notice. He’s alert, watching the skies and the ground, there’s no way an alien is getting the drop on him. 

“It’s really,  _ really _ good to see you again.” The moment is ruined as a low flying alien ship zooms by, there’s a large smoking hole in the side and the sound of terrified screaming coming from inside. Clint catches the flash of brightly colored armor through the smoking hole and then the ship is gone over the horizon. For a brief moment Clint thinks he imagined that, until he hears short bursts of static from Washington and relaxes. The static from Wash’s mic is badly concealed laughter.

“You say that now, but you haven’t met the rest of my team.” Washington says, laughter making his voice go a slightly higher pitch. Clint doesn’t say anything back.

If there was anyone ready to take on an alien invasion, it’d be a Freelancer agent and whoever was running with them. Clint believes that wholeheartedly. Freelancer was made to take on aliens.

But that could also just be the concussion talking.


End file.
